


share your resting place with me

by mollivanders



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Blood Sharing, Character Turned Into Vampire, F/M, On the Run, Pair the Smart Ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 16:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17491421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollivanders/pseuds/mollivanders
Summary: They don’t leave his apartment for a week. They order takeout and empty Jess’ liquor stash before she finally relents and takes him outside for a night stroll.“Everything’s bigger,” he tells her conspiratorially, the nightlife of Philly pressing in on his senses, and Rory wraps her arms around one of his as they walk.“Told you,” she replies, distracted, and he follows her gaze to a drunkard leaning heavily outside a bar. “Remember what I taught you?” she asks, still focused on her prey, and Jess nods. “Oh yeah, teach. I remember.”





	share your resting place with me

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this in October 2012, but when I realized I hadn't posted it to AO3 I made some minor tweaks and added a transitional section. This is basically a Jess/Rory Vampire AU because that's what happens between The Vampire Diaries 4x02 and a Gilmore Girls rewatch. References to bloodplay.

He never asks who turned her. She just shows up on his doorstep one day, the rain pouring just behind her in some kind of romantic homage to what is about to happen. He doesn’t know what to think – not really, not after the last time he saw her – but he opens the door because in the balance, it’s still Rory.  
  
(Even in the balance.)  
  
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” she asks, and there’s a nervous twinge to her voice. “Yeah, come in,” he says, watches her cross the threshold and hover near the window while he closes the door. “You must be freezing,” he says, digging his hands in his coat pocket. “Want something to drink?”  
  
+  
  
Somewhere between the third brandy and his ridiculous Count von Count impression, he lets her feed off of him. He read  _Interview With a Vampire_ , he’d seen  _Buffy_  but nothing – nothing – could have prepared him for this. At first he thought it was some weird dream from the drugs Billy gave him, but eventually reality set in. Rory was drinking from his palm and it hurt more than the time he’d broken his arm and the bone broke through the skin but at the same time –  
  
Well, it was Rory.  
  
When his breath starts hitching she pulls away and he clenches his fist while she gets a bandage.  
  
“Sorry,” she says, not sounding it at all. “I was hungry.”  
  
He wants to believe, he really does, because the alternative is Rory having joined some blood cult and that just doesn’t sound like her. Maybe it was that guy she was with, last time –  
  
“It just happened,” she says when he presses her. “I thought I was dead but I woke up. It’s not so bad.”  
  
Even then, he thinks he knows why she came here, of all places.

(He understands - and almost hopes.)

+

Lost somewhere past the midnight hour, he lets her feed off of him, again and again.

"This is what you came here for, isn't it?" he asks, and she hums, breaking the skin on his lips. He leans in, eternally hungry, and she pulls him closer, strong as ever. Others might argue, but he's always known this about her.

She's always been the most powerful storm he's ever walked in.

He doesn't ask her to turn him, and she doesn't offer. It's no more than a promise exchanged, his eyes caught on hers, clasped hands and stolen lives wrapped around their shadows in the dark. He drinks, confessional blood smeared across his lips, and she drinks back from him, eyes locked on his as he slips away. If he doesn't come back - he knows he might not - at least he lived with her.

(Death comes softly, late in the night, the memory of another life carried far, far away.)

But it also returns - and brings something larger back with him.

(She'd made sure of it.)

She'd made sure of him.  
  
+  
  
They don’t leave his apartment for a week. They order takeout and empty Jess’ liquor stash before she finally relents and takes him outside for a night stroll.  
  
“Everything’s bigger,” he tells her conspiratorially, the nightlife of Philly pressing in on his senses, and Rory wraps her arms around one of his as they walk.  
  
“Told you,” she replies, distracted, and he follows her gaze to a drunkard leaning heavily outside a bar. “Remember what I taught you?” she asks, still focused on her prey, and Jess nods. “Oh yeah, teach. I remember.”  
  
(The man, on the other hand, forgets.)  
  
+  
  
Traveling is hard and sunlight actually really is a problem. At first it just stings but the longer they stand out in it, the worse it gets until it feels like his whole body is on fire, which it will be soon enough. They drive empty highways at night, staying in cheap hotels with curtains drawn while Rory lists all the places she wants to visit, now that she can.  
  
“You always could have,” he tells her but she shakes her head.  
  
“Not really,” she says. “Not before.”  
  
It’s then that he starts to think that maybe this life wasn’t forced on her; that she chose it as freely as he did.  
  
+  
  
The first time it happens is by accident. They’re finally taking off, heading to Paris and London and the whole world, but their cruise doesn’t leave for two more days. Until then, they’ve holed up inside a fancy hotel right by the waterfront. Rory’s taken to walking around in just a sheet while Jess orders takeout.  
  
“The bellboy or the receptionist?” he asks while she brushes her teeth and she grins at him. “You choose.”  
  
But the bellboy was heated, something in his blood sending Jess on edge, and Jess and Rory end up fucking on the window seat, all of midnight Charleston laid out below them. She’s panting in Jess’ ear and he doesn’t know what makes him do it, maybe instinct, but he arches his neck to graze his teeth against her skin and when he bites down, he feels her come around him.  
  
They land on the floor in a haphazard pile, his brain popping while Rory rocks urgently against him.  
  
“What did you do?” she asks, her voice keening. When she reaches up to feel her neck Jess sits up and licks at the wound, feels a heady rush of pleasure different – more powerful – than sex fill his head and when he comes, it’s all he can do to fall back on the floor.  
  
“I don’t know,” he says weakly, Rory still on top him. She leans down, her breasts grazing his chest and he moans faintly when she grazes her teeth against his neck.  
  
“Like this?” she asks and when he nods, eyes squeezed shut, she bites down and drinks.  
  
(They get no rest that night.)  
  
+  
  
“You never did that before?” he asks when they’ve set sail, their cabin door firmly locked and a ship’s mate sitting placidly at their feet for lunch.  
  
“No,” she says, surprise still in her voice. “I never…” She blushes hard. “I’ve never done that with anyone.”  
  
“Huh,” he replies, stepping closer and threading their hands together. “Because that seemed special.” Rory’s blush is all gone now, stepping into his personal space and kissing him sweetly, nipping at his lip as she steps away.  
  
“Unpack our bags please,” she tells the ship’s mate and pulls Jess with her towards the bathroom. “We’re going to wash up.”  
  
It turns out shipboard showers are as cramped as advertised, but they make do.  
  
+  
  
All things considered, Jess thinks vampirism holds few surprises. Sunlight hurts, he drinks blood, he can wipe the memory of all the assholes who ever cross him, and he’s painfully turned on by everything Rory does.  
  
(Well, that’s not new.)  
  
Drinking from Rory, or when she drinks from him – well, that is new  _and_  a surprise. It takes them a while to adjust and he even feels guilty about the kid they once killed in the midst of their haze. It takes control, and perspective, and while they both regret it, Rory reminds him – “People die every day.”  
  
(How Rory shifts into this new life: that is also a surprise.)  
  
Vampires are rare, different from all the stories. It’s not like he actually expected to find a secret underground jazz club of vampires in Paris, but it does make him and Rory special, even to each other. He’s stopped wondering how she turned, how she found this life at all, because if it was worth telling –  
  
“I was working late,” she says one night, after three bottles of champagne and the hotel clerk. “I had an interview, with an author who  _I can’t tell you_ , don’t ask. And he looked at me like he knew that I was going mad, that I felt trapped and stupid and small.” She pauses. “He’d been following my work. He wanted me to come with him.”  
  
“Did you?” Jess asks, because he’s pretty sure he knows how this story ends.  
  
“It turns out we had nothing in common,” Rory says. “And he was a bad kisser.”   
  
The tale stops there.  
  
+  
  
It turns out London is grand, and they stay in Paris a few decades longer than they planned, but eventually Rory gets a homesick look in her eye and Jess books passage home. They arrive in Stars Hollow in the midst of a 30s revival – from the 2030s – and nobody knows them. The town hasn’t changed much, not really, and they walk by Luke’s Diner without a word. There’s a sandy-haired kid running the place who could be Rory’s long-lost nephew but –  
  
“It doesn’t matter,” she says when Jess asks, and then looks up to check his reaction. “It doesn’t, does it?”  
  
“Nah,” he says, pulling her closer. They stay one night and spend one hour at the graveyard, where Rory leaves a bouquet of roses on the grave of Lorelai Gilmore without a word.  
  
“Let’s go,” she says and Jess drives them out of Stars Hollow faster than they came.  
  
+  
  
They make one stop in D.C., sneaking past the best security money can buy to visit the former President Paris Geller. She drops the drink she’s pouring when she sees them, her forgotten youth walking through the door.  
  
“I thought I’d never see you again,” she says, clearly about to jump into a tirade about keeping in touch and common decency when Rory steps closer, curls her hand around a strand of faded silver hair. “We couldn’t stay,” she says, and in their secret language of schoolgirls, Paris falls silent, lets Rory press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and sighs.  
  
When they finally leave, drunk as ever on life and love, Paris grabs Jess’ hand and whispers hard in his ear, “You take care of her.”  
  
(They carry her with them out of the city, and beyond.)  
  
+  
  
Immortality is easy when he’s spending it with Rory. He meant it when he said they were supposed to be together. Nothing fits more than him at her side, following her around the world and writing stories for kids like him who don’t know better than to dream dark.  
  
“Don’t they know by now you’re mine?” Rory taunts him one night and he laughs, pretends to work for a minute longer before crawling across the bed to her, lets her kiss him long and deep.  
  
(At some point he forgave her for not believing in him, once. He’s forgotten why it ever mattered.)  
  
“I know it,” he says. “Isn’t that enough?”  
  
Rory’s eyes are dark with blood lust and her palms slide up to his shoulders to bring him rough against her. When she smiles, he can still spot his Rory Gilmore writing this story of death and isolation. That’s where she’d always found herself, on the outside. Even in life.  
  
Especially with him.  
  
“No,” she says, and she sinks her teeth into him. “It’s not. Guess you’ll have to make it up to me.”  
  
(He does.)  
  
 _Finis_


End file.
